


Sharp

by aishahiwatari



Series: Trektober 2019 [6]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Biting, Coming Untouched, Dubious Consent, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 21:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20918750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishahiwatari/pseuds/aishahiwatari
Summary: They need to talk about this, because Jim knows that Bones cares about him, of course he does, has seen him prove it time and time again, but he’s never seen this. He’s not exactly sure what this means, just yet, but it feels good and every single one of his attempts to touch in return results in his being pressed back against the floor. Eventually he subsides, just allows Bones to work, does nothing but twist his wrist slightly when Bones lifts his head with a final lap of his tongue, to examine the deep red mark left there.(for day 6 of Trektober 2019, prompt: Biting)





	Sharp

**Author's Note:**

> The dubious consent warning is there because Leonard didn't actually know what this alien ritual would do to him prior to being under its influence, and because he's physically restrained while awaiting Jim's arrival.
> 
> It works out alright, and nobody suffers any permanent effects.

“You will be in the room for approximately one of your Federation hours. This is still acceptable?”

“Of course. I said I trusted my crew, and I meant it. I have no concerns about what will happen in that room.”

Jim’s not lying. He’ll be perfectly safe for the next hour, or however long this bizarre alien ritual lasts.

It’s what comes after that, that he’s worried about. Bones, in his typical fashion, went and mouthed off to the ambassador when they made a vaguely insulting comment about doubting the loyalty of Jim’s crew, and in- well, in Jim’s typical fashion actually, Bones then volunteered for a test designed to prove it.

He hadn’t known at the time that the test would involve reducing him to his most honest, animal instincts by robbing him of higher thought and then imprisoning him with Jim in order to examine his reaction.

So, no, Jim isn’t worried about what Bones will do to him in there, but he is very worried about his reaction when he finds out what’s been done to him.

Jim’s already suggested that better guidelines about bodily autonomy should be provided, in the event the population of the planet do consider them to have passed this test and they elect to join the Federation.

He’s going to more than suggest it, he knows, when he walks into the room to find Bones chained to the wall with manacles around his wrists, with raw, red marks on his skin where he’s been pulling at them, with fury in his eyes. Jim doesn’t even think, just rushes towards him, vowing somebody will suffer despite his expected professional decorum. They agreed to a test, not to torture, and if Bones is hurt-

Oh. It’s so alarming, not to hear him bitching and ranting, to instead have Bones pressing against him, warm and solid and uninhibitedly seeking comfort in his presence. Jim’s heart pounds, and the door to the room slams shut, and the manacles click open but before he can check for any injury beyond the superficial, Bones is in his arms, wrapping around him like Jim’s the one that needs protecting.

Maybe that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise. Bones has always put him first, whether it was at the Academy when he’d miss sleep to give Jim the medical treatment he didn’t deserve and refused to seek elsewhere, or on the Enterprise when- Jim kept doing that. It’s never been quite so starkly apparent in Jim’s mind before, but even as he hugs Bones closer -not taking advantage of his state, just comforting them both, right?- he knows he’s forgiven. This is Bones’ most honest self, and all he wants is to keep Jim safe, even now.

Jim’s never doubted it, but it’s something else entirely to be so indisputably shown. It makes him feel warm inside, makes him smile involuntarily. Because it’s all he wants, too. He’s died to keep Bones safe, and he’d do it again, no matter how much pain he caused, because at least it meant he was still alive.

“Nothing to worry about here, right, Bones?” Jim asks, maybe slightly too soon, because although he doesn’t know if Bones can pick out his words, he can certainly read an encouraging tone and fuck, he’s strong. He pushes Jim down onto his back and Jim’s not fighting him but he also doesn’t think he could if he wanted to, couldn’t bring himself to do the necessary harm to the very essence of his best friend, and-

“Are you fucking kidding me, right now?” he has to ask, unable to help himself, letting his head drop back against the wooden floor because he’d been hoping to find some clue to Bones’ intentions in his expression.

But Bones can’t hide it from him, not like this. He’s not schooling himself, or looking away, or distracting him like he has been for so long, Jim suddenly realises. Because he’s seen that look before, on the face of many anonymous conquests, too driven by seeking a feeling to think too much. He’s seen it from across bars, in clubs, just out on the street, that one time at a Captains’ meeting.

He has never, ever seen it on Bones’ face before, not directed at him or at anybody else, not a fucking glimpse, and he knows, because he would have pounced on that opportunity immediately, would not have let it slip through his fingers.

“You want me?” he asks Bones’ dark eyes, intent expression, the hands with which he firmly examines Jim’s body, checking for injury without a hint of professional detachment. “Do you know I want you? Bones.”

He says the name, and those eyes meet his, and Jim does his best, his absolute utmost to project love and desire and craving as honestly as he can, after years spent hiding it and longer without ever experiencing it. He reaches up to cradle Bones’ face, knows his own expression softens further when Bones leans into the touch, a soft smile on his gorgeous features, seeming younger without the perpetual scowl. Jim traces a finger across that unmarred brow, glad for this moment but missing his friend, wishing they could talk about this, tell each other what they want except Bones is way ahead of him on that front, apparently, and he takes Jim’s hands and pins them to the floor by his head.

His gaze drags, hot and assessing, over Jim’s uniformed body, and Jim squirms with the intensity of it but earns nothing except a pleased upwards twitch of lips.

And then Bones lowers his head, shifts his hand to pull Jim’s sleeve down a little, sets his mouth to the skin on the inside of Jim’s wrist and bites.

Jim’s startled yelp doesn’t faze him, and thank fuck, because Jim has never wanted anything to stop less in his life. Bones licks and sucks and bites at that sensitive spot, every single lap of his tongue sending sparks shooting right down Jim’s spine. He’s gentle but insistent, and Jim’s entirely forgotten about attempting to move away, just rolling his hips in an effort to find some friction against the strong body holding his down and getting nowhere.

Maybe that’s a good thing. They need to talk about this, because Jim knows that Bones cares about him, of course he does, has seen him prove it time and time again, but he’s never seen this. He’s not exactly sure what this means, just yet, but it feels good and every single one of his attempts to touch in return results in his being pressed back against the floor. Eventually he subsides, just allows Bones to work, does nothing but twist his wrist slightly when Bones lifts his head with a final lap of his tongue, to examine the deep red mark left there.

He kind of likes it, almost as much as he likes the way Bones’ eye light up when he sees it, almost as much as the warm hands smoothing up his stomach, gathering his shirts along with them and the hot, wet mouth pressed to his pectoral. It’s a strange feeling, not quite pain but close enough, with the imprint of blunt teeth, to make Jim feel shivery and warm. Aside from the involuntary heaving of his chest as he struggles to breathe, he doesn’t dare move any more, for fear it will stop, that he’ll be left with nothing but a fading mark on his wrist, a gradually deepening one on his-

Oh.

“Bones-“ Jim breathes, because that’s his pulse point, and this one is directly above his pounding heart, and Bones wants him. He’s claiming him. “You possessive bastard.”

He doesn’t know Jim is already his, as much as he’s ever been anyone’s. Jim sags, stills as best he can, with the restless twitching of his hips and the urge to beg for more. This is deep and viscerally emotional, unspeakably protective and possessive all at once. He wants it but it’s not the same, like this.

He wants Bones to tell him how he feels, he thinks, as twin marks on his chest take the rough shape of a heart. He wants those eyes on his, watching his reactions, noting for when they do this again, as teeth graze his hipbone, the hurt soothed by the loving lathe of a tongue. He allows his pants to be pulled down, arches and can’t hold back a whine when that mouth is set to the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, even as he craves more.

Bones doesn’t let up for quite some time, and Jim wonders how long he’s thought about this, to have such an inclination towards it, to leave at least five scattered marks there, to ensure there’s no doubt whatsoever of what they’ve been doing. God, Jim wants to keep them forever, even if Bones ignores his cock where it’s straining hard against his briefs, even if he bites at the hollow of Jim’s hip to suck at the skin over his femoral pulse to work intently until the skin there is dark and abused.

There’s going to be no part of him left unclaimed after this, Jim realises, shuddering and groaning as Bones finally buries his face in the hollow of Jim’s throat, sinks his teeth in and marks him right where everyone can see, keeps at it, long and slow, until Jim’s skin has to be purple with it.

Fuck, it feels good. Jim’s always been sensitive there, has never been so able to trust anyone with his most vulnerable places before, but this is Bones. He has at some point probably literally held Jim’s beating heart in his hands. He can do whatever he wants, and Jim tilts his head back to encourage more, even if he can’t cling, plead and demand it.

He whines when it stops, but Bones murmurs reassurance, pulls a handful of his hair to the side and sets about biting another mark right next to that previous one.

“Oh my God,” Jim groans, because he never wants this to stop. It hurts and it soothes and every inch of his skin feels like it’s on fire and he’s so hard, and he wants Bones to kiss him, more than anything, to tell him how much he’s wants him, for how long. He wants his best friend back, to be held rather than pinned.

He gets his wish, after he’s figured out that Bones is collaring him with bruises, working his way around, undeniably staking his claim, focused and intent until the moment he’s not, maybe just one more bite mark from completing his task.

“Jim?” He’s audibly and visibly trembling, and Jim takes hold of his face, brings wide, still-dark eyes to meet his.

It’s his turn to be honest. “I love you. I want this. Please don’t stop. I promise we can talk about this later, but for now- let ‘em see I’m yours?”

Bones overthinks everything, enough for both of them, and for a moment Jim thinks he can’t offer enough to counter it. But Bones’ gaze travels over him, takes in the marks at his throat, down his chest. His breath catches when he sees the state of Jim’s thighs, and Jim spreads his legs further to give him a better look.

“I could’ve hurt you,” Bones says, but it’s a soft murmur spoken against the last unmarred spot in that collar, and he presses his lips to Jim’s skin, laps with his tongue to taste him and doesn’t object when Jim threads fingers into his hair, guiding and feeling and just needing to know he’s there. Bones takes a few breaths, deep and even, and then he bites with true intent and Jim mewls because this is it, his Bones, overthinking and all.

“You’re mine too, right?” he asks, nonsensically, as he clutches and clings, writhes and then moans when Bones roughly pushes him against the floor with a hand right over the bruise of his hip, still staunchly protective but also aware of what he can handle.

“Been yours for years, Jim.”

Okay, so yes, Jim does come at that moment, but it’s been building for a while, and when Bones realises what’s happening in the shift of his body and the racing of his heart, he snarls and bites harder.

“I’ll show you possessive,” he threatens, too, and Jim shudders with a final weak spurt because Bones remembers and he’s not recoiling, and every single one of his touches is balanced on that delicate knife edge between tenderness and pain. He’s perfect.

-

“Okay, the neck ones are maybe too much,” Jim concedes, when he gets off the comm to the Admiralty having had multiple people stare, whisper or laugh outright while he was en route to his ready room. “But if you ever let me walk out of my quarters again without bite marks on my thighs, you’re fired.”

“Noted.” Bones gives him a lop-sided smile, and a once-over. “Don’t worry. I take care of what’s mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m also on [Tumblr](https://aishahiwatari.tumblr.com/)


End file.
